betaread by gkmoberg1

Monster by Paramore

You were my conscience, so solid, now you're like water

And we started drowning, not like we'd sink any further

But I let my heart go, it's somewhere down at the bottom

But I'll get a new one and come back for the hope that you've stolen

Chapter 17

Winnow waited a good half-hour to make sure Thresh had really left before she changed locations at the creek. She hiked farther up along the water source for a few minutes and decided to cross to the other side. While the creek was deep, it was narrow – only four or five feet wide.

Winnow disrobed down to her underwear, rolling up her clothes and shoes before stowing it in her pack – so they would be waiting, warm and dry on the other side of the creek. To avoid damaging her supplies - and Winnow wasn't willing to test how waterproof her pack was - she tossed it onto the opposite bank, the pack rolling a yard or two – far too close to the water for her comfort.

Then Winnow had been sure to secure her trident and knives to her body before diving into the cold creek. Her teeth were chattering when she had surfaced and quickly swam to the other side. The temperature had plummeted once the sun had set, and the water's temperature had certainly fell too.

Winnow hugged her arms around her body after she had climbed onto the shore, rubbing her flesh vigorously to stimulate some blood flow in her chilled limbs. She wrung out her wet under-shirt and quickly got dressed again. While her wet and cold underclothes were still a damper on her spirits as well as comfort, she felt a thousand times better once she had the dry clothes on over them.

She had put the creek between her and Thresh just in case he had decided to return tonight. Rumor has it that many of the other Districts didn't have much water, and very few knew how to swim. The creek was just deep and wide enough to give Thresh trouble.

Winnow lay awake the whole night – hands stuffed into her sleeves – one hand clutching a knife's handle. She had drawn the hood over her face and tightened the drawstrings as much as she could. She was freezing.

It had been cold the night before too, but Winnow had been inside the Cornucopia – blocking most of the wind, and Cato had been beside her – snoring and radiating heat like a furnace. As alone and cold as she was right now, she wouldn't have minded the big brute right now.

She had been so upset before. She still was – but Clove had admitted she was behind Kai's death, and Winnow's anger had shifted from her to Cato so quickly. She had heard him ask Clove, heard Clove say she hadn't told him – but for some reason Winnow couldn't believe it.

Maybe it's just easier for me to take my anger out on Cato, Winnow considered. In the Hunger Games, in this arena, he was her only real ally. He was the only one she was sure wouldn't turn his back on her without a thought. Winnow couldn't afford to alienate him.

Cato had as many flaws as he did strengths, just like Winnow. But the one she truly admired was his loyalty. It wasn't easily given, and it took a lot to shake it. It truly scared Winnow how much faith he had in her – from the moment they had met.

Winnow's trust was not so easily won. Yes, she trusted Finnick and Pyrrhus completely, but they had no reason to go against her. She wanted to trust Cato, and she did, tentatively – but Winnow couldn't shake her doubt. The knowledge that the tables could turn at any moment. Cato could decide he didn't need her – as unlikely as that was, the thought troubled her.

In the early hours of the morning, when the sky was just beginning to lighten, Winnow began to wonder if she should have let Thresh bring her back to his camp so she would have had somewhere to sleep in relative safety. Stupid, Winnow immediately scolded herself. I couldn't trust Thresh with my back turned. He's smart. Not smarter than me, but smart enough to kill strong competition when there's a chance to do it, she counseled herself.

Once the sun had risen and Winnow felt warm enough to draw her hands from her sleeves, she dug through her pack for a water canteen. The canteens at the Cornucopia had built-in purifiers, and Winnow would make use of them. She filled the canteen and waited a few moments for it to be purified before gulping it all down. She filled the canteen a second time, laying it down on the rocky shore next to her.

It was Winnow's growling stomach that reminded her it was time to eat. Before risking her supply of food, she decided to search for a fresh source. Showing her District 4 upbringing, it was the water she first checked.

There were no fish that she would bother with catching – they were all too small – little minnows that raced back and forth in the water. The fish reminded her of Finnick, bringing a bittersweet taste to her mouth. Shifting her search a little downstream, Winnow sighted what could only be a bed of oysters.

Winnow shouldered her pack and trident and moved a few yards downstream – adjacent to where she had seen the oysters. Fortunately they were right on the edge of the creek where she was – but they were just deep enough that she would have to submerge her arm if not actually get in the water.

She shrugged off the jacket, carefully placing it to the side so it would not get wet. Rolling up the sleeve on one arm, Winnow dipped her fingers into the water gingerly – finding that the creek was not as cold as it had been the night before.

Winnow harvested about eight oysters before she sat back and tried to dry her arm off as best she could with the outside of her jacket. Her sleeve had gotten a little wet, but that was nothing compared to last night's wet underwear. She quickly got her jacket back on and drew the smallest knife she had – which she knew was too big, anyhow, to try and shuck the oysters.

As predicted, her knife was too big and ineffective at opening the shells. Winnow didn't mind the shells splintering, but using a knife to do it usually earned her more cuts than oysters. One by one, she cracked the oysters on the rocks on the creek's shore – slurping down each oyster hungrily.

After Winnow had eaten her fill – all eight oysters – she drank down her canteen and refilled it again. With her belly full and her thirst sated, Winnow packed all her things up and started to follow the creek downstream.

It was time for her to get back to the Careers. She was sure that anymore time spent away from them would only hurt the point she had made by walking away. Winnow followed the stream for several hours – knowing it had to lead to the lake.

And when she saw the creek's mouth at the lake, she smiled. Winnow was hot, sweaty and tired. Night and day were polar opposites – and she had been hiking for hours under the hot sun. The sun was overhead when she finally reached their camp, making it nearly midday.

Only Marvel and Chase were around – the latter was still working on the supplies trap. She could see all the mines had been unburied, but only about half had been reburied, Chase working on increasing that number.

It was Marvel who guarded the camp in the other Careers' absence, Marvel who grinned at the sight of a sweaty, sticky Winnow walking in his direction. "The fields must not have been too great if you're back already," he teased, earning a glare from the dark-haired girl.

When Winnow closed in, Marvel frowned at the sight of her split lip and bruised forehead. "What happened?" he questioned in – dare she say it? – concern.

"Let's just say that I ran into Eleven's fist, and his forehead ran into mine." she muttered with a little shame. She didn't like to admit that she hadn't had the upper hand – Winnow preferred to always have the upper hand.

"Eleven? The boy?" he inquired and Winnow nodded. Marvel winced and let out a whistle. "It looks like you ran into each other pretty hard. You could have a concussion – did you sleep?"

Winnow shook her head. "It was too cold. And I didn't want to let my guard down." she answered.

Marvel nodded in understanding. "Well, why don't you go ahead and let your guard down over there?" he suggested, gesturing to the little camp they had set up while she was gone. They had distanced themselves from the Cornucopia – setting up awnings over their bedrolls and a small pile of supplies. "Cato's bedroll is under the second awning. I think he left some room for you." Marvel informed her – winking impishly at her.

Winnow was far too tired to respond to his taunt – merely rolling her eyes at him and trudging towards the section that he had pointed her to. There had been five awnings set up – one in the center, and the other four branching out from it. The center awning had a small store of supplies – almost nothing worth stealing – and the other awnings had bedrolls and various small belongings of the tributes.

Under the second awning, she dropped her pack onto the ground without care and spread her bedroll besides the other one. Winnow lay her trident beside her bedroll, and made sure one knife was at her fingertips before curling up on the bedroll. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Ah, sleep. This one was the heavy sort – the sleep of someone who was just worn out physically and emotionally. Winnow had gone through the full spectrum of emotions since entering the arena and she needed this. This sort of sleep just drained one, so that when one awoke they would feel refreshed – and separate from the last day's trials.

When Winnow woke – it was slowly – all the noise around her slowly filtered in. First she could hear quiet talking around her, then the grating noise of someone sharpening their weapon, and then she could even hear the wind and the surf from the water. Her eyes flickered open, finding Cato sitting on the bedroll beside hers, working a whetstone over each edge of his sword.

She sat up slowly, gaining the attention of the others. "Good afternoon, sleepy-head," Marvel teased her from a few yards away, sitting at a small cook-fire with Glimmer and Peeta. Clove merely glanced at her before returning her attention to sharpening her own small, deadly weapons, seated on her own bedroll close by.

Cato's head had turned quickly when he had heard Marvel's voice – looking upon Winnow with a mixture of weariness and impatience. Like he was already exasperated but sort of wanted to know what kind of mischief she had gotten in to during her absence. She raised her hand in greeting to them, before yawning into her palm.

Another glance around found Chase still working at the supply trap. "You got a sponsor gift." Cato said quietly, pointing behind her. Winnow glanced back and saw a small silver canister with a parachute attached sitting adjacent to her bedroll. A digital four flashed at her on the tiny display.

Winnow reached over and took hold of it, opening it hastily to have a tube the size of a lipstick and a slip of paper drop into her lap. She quickly took hold of the note before the wind could carry it away, and turned it over to read it.

It's time to kiss and make up…

-F

Winnow rolled her eyes and shifted her hand so that the curious blond could read the note. The moment he did, she knew it, for the note was snatched from her hand. Cato got to his feet, striding towards the fire – tossing the crumpled paper into the flames.

Winnow stood - palming her jacket for a dagger in one pocket, the other hand clenched around the small canister that had been her gift. As Cato turned back towards her, she raised her eyebrows at him. Briefly, Winnow wondered if he was angry with her – but the sheepish grimace he flashed her showed no ire.

With her chin, she gestured towards the lake. Cato nodded – moving towards her to grab his sword. Winnow started towards the waterfront, knowing her ally was on her heels. Once she reached the rocky shore, she sank down onto the ground, crossing her legs comfortably.

Cato reached her quickly – hesitating a moment before he sat down beside her. "You like it by the water, huh?" he remarked.

Winnow flashed him a look of amusement. "Well, yeah. It reminds me of home." She answered. Turning her attention to her sponsor gift, she opened the canister and found a clear, waxy substance. "What is it?!" Winnow questioned – her face crinkling up in disgust.

Cato peered over at the canister – and then it was his turn to laugh. "It's medicine, Winnow!" he managed to get out between big, gut-wrenching guffaws.

With her face still crinkled up, she raised it up to sniff at delicately. "Medicine for what?!" The strong smell immediately had Winnow gagging – she nearly threw the canister into the water, had Cato not grabbed it from her.

"For your cuts and bruises," he informed her. She looked at it doubtfully, her nose crinkled and still burning from the acrid smell. "Here," Cato sighed, dipping a finger into the waxy medicine and moving to apply it to the bruise on her forehead.

Winnow flinched back, eyes narrowed at the medicine in suspicion. "Oh, for the love of Panem, Winnow, look at my finger! It has the medicine on it and it's fine!" Cato huffed, shifting the medicine to his other hand so he could put his palm on the back of her neck – preventing her from moving away.

Winnow glared at him – but finally allowed Cato to administer the medicine to the big bruise on her forehead. Her scrunched-up face smoothed out as she felt the immediate cooling and soothing effect of the waxy medicine. "There. That's not so bad, is it?" Cato cooed to her mockingly.

Dipping his finger back into the medicine, Cato clumsily applied it to the tender split in Winnow's lip. At the contact, Winnow winced and his lips tightened into a thin line. "What happened out there, anyway?" he asked.

"Didn't Marvel tell you?" Winnow retorted, trying to stay still as Cato smoothed more medicine on a cut on her cheek. He flashed her an exasperated look and she sighed. "I met the boy from 11 out there. We had a little… altercation. He got the drop on me." Winnow explained.

Cato capped the medicine, wiping his finger on his pants to clean it off. "I didn't hear a cannon." He commented rather than asked.

She shrugged, taking the medicine and opening it again. Cato's gaze was questioning – at his remark and both her actions. Seeing that she had had no adverse effects, Winnow carefully dipped her finger into the little remaining medicine and raised a hand towards Cato.

He raised an eyebrow at her, so she rolled her eyes at him and applied the remaining medicine on a nasty looking cut on the side of Cato's neck. "Are you gonna answer?" he asked – his dark eyes softening a little as he looked down upon her.

"Did you ask a question?" Winnow replied tritely – earning a huff and glare from her blond counterpart. "He had me pinned." She added quietly, making Cato lean in closer to hear her better. "He had me pinned and could have killed me, but he didn't. He stopped, so I was able to get away. I could have killed him, and I would have if he had made another move towards me. But he didn't, so I returned his favor. I walked away." Winnow explained as she capped the empty canister and placed it down at her side.

Cato watched her for a long moment before he raised a hand and cupped her chin. "I'll repay every bruise he gave you with two for him." He commented seriously.

A grin stole over Winnow's features, making his brows furrow. "I already did that," she whispered, letting out a laugh just before Cato towed her in for a hard kiss. Winnow's hand shifted to circle lightly around Cato's – the silver canister rolled down the shore unnoticed and came to a stop right where the waves lapped at the rocky shore.

In the Capitol

Bright lights illuminate a familiar stage. Two small couches sitting adjacent to each other, one was occupied by the celebrated Caesar Flickerman. An uncharacteristically serious expression on his leathery, tanned face.

"District 4 has suffered a devastating loss with the death of one of their tributes – Kai Rive. Who could forget? Our sea-goddess Winnow broke every heart in Panem when she held him in her arms as she died." Caesar orated, turning towards his guest.

Finnick Odair sat opposite him – pale but smiling. His left foot constantly tapped at the floor – stressed at merely being away from a television to keep watch over his remaining tribute. "Finnick, can you tell us anything? You must be heartbroken." The host simpered sympathetically.

"Of course I am… Kai had such promise. He was studying to be a surgeon and wanted to help those less fortunate in District Four. We had thought he was safe…" Finnick began – swallowing heavily. "… at least for a while. Winnow and Cato had agreed to have him in the group of Careers. We thought his skill was valuable, that he was worth more alive. Apparently the others disagreed." He added.

Caesar's face lit at this opening, before he quickly reigned himself in. "Ah, yes. How does it feel, Finnick? To know that one of your Victors told their tribute to kill your own?" he asked.

Finnick sighed. His eyes lifted to the audience. "My feelings towards Brutus are strained right now, of course. But I cannot blame him. I would have advised my tribute to do the same." He answered logically.

"Speaking of our tumultuous Winnow – how do you think she's doing, Finnick?"

"As well as expected, Caesar. I think she showed all of us that she has it in her to be ruthless. But she didn't expect Kai's death to come so soon. I didn't prepare her for that." Finnick answered heavily – raking a hand through his hair.

"Why was Winnow's reaction so… raw? Did these two have some sort of connection?" Caesar questioned curiously.

"They were childhood friends. Winnow was orphaned at a young age, and then her sister passed away tragically two years ago. Kai was all she had left, Caesar."

"Except you." Caesar interjected.

After a moment of silence, Finnick nodded. "Except me." He confirmed.

Caesar opened his mouth to speak again, only to hesitate. "And if Winnow should fall, Finnick?" he asked.

Finnick's eyes closed for a long moment. "Would I survive losing her?" he asked himself. "Another little sister that I have grown to love? I don't know."

The audience's murmuring grew to a roar and Finnick had to restrain a smirk. While he didn't lie – he knew that his audience would be sympathetic. The sponsors would roll in. They had to.

"How terrible." Caesar said, grimacing genuinely at the sadness he saw on the handsome Victor's features.

"Yes, Caesar."

"How about that romance between Cato and Winnow, then? Seems to be turning out much more genuine than the one between Peeta and Katniss, yes?" Caesar wondered. The screen behind the host lit up – showing the live feed from the arena.

Cato and Winnow lay side by side on their bedrolls, a single large blanket shared between them. The pair were fast asleep and Finnick could see that his tribute's minor injuries had healed.

After a moment of distraction, Finnick finally answered. "Absolutely. I can't speak for the tributes from District 12, but for Winnow I can. There was a connection between her and Cato from the moment they met. Of course, some of it was playing for the cameras here in the Capitol. But once they entered the arena – there was no pretending anymore." He spoke.

"When I look at that screen, I don't see pretending." Caesar said in agreement, gesturing to the screen behind him.

Finnick shook his head. "No. If they were pretending, how could they sleep side by side like that? Winnow doesn't trust easily. And to sleep beside someone in the Hunger Games… that is trust."

Caesar bobbed his head in accordance. "Well, thank you very much for an enlightening interview, Finnick. We will be watching these two very closely – the brutal, bloody lovers Winnow and Cato,"

Finnick sat on the side of a bed, eyes trained on the projection wall. The projection was set to the ocean, just like it had been a few nights before. The waves licked at the rocky shore more calmly than they had before.

The horizon above the water was a bloody red and orange. Red sun rising like an early warning. It was probably a morning like this when Winnow's parents had gone out to sea and never came back.

Finnick shifted and stretched out on the bed, tucking the pillow beneath his head. Inhaling deeply, he couldn't smell the salty fragrance that had been there only a short time ago. The sheets had already been changed.

It was already as if they had forgotten she was ever here. She wasn't even dead yet. That would be over Finnick's dead body – even though there was very little he could do to stop it.

Unless he kept drumming up the buzz around Winnow, unless she kept the Games exciting, she would be forgotten oh so quickly. Finnick knew that was the one thing he could do. Winnow would be the name on everyone's lips. He would not let her fall because of his own failure.

The automatic door opened, making the Victor lift his head. His mentor, Mags, an old woman who should be at home with her children and grandchildren, walked in with only a slight hitch – showing her pain and arthritis. She moved over to him, sitting down beside him.

Mags rubbed his shoulder, leaning down so her mouth was next to his ear. "I miss- th-them too," she said brokenly. Finnick sat up, wrapping his arms around the old woman.

"I'm doing everything I can, Mags. I just don't know if it'll be enough." He told her quietly.

Mags slapped him lightly on the cheek, a forbidding expression on her features. She stood wearily and turned to him, tugging his arm to get him to follow her.

Finnick sighed, letting her pull at him for a few moments before he stood and let the old woman lead him away.

I want to thank my good friend and reviewer, EmmelinesEmbers. You're my boo, kay?

Also want to thank gkmoberg1 for her neverending patience and great eye for detail as my beta-reader. You rock!

The reviews - or lack there of for Chapter 16 was disappointing. I see there are plenty of views, so I would like to ask you to review. This is a labor of love that can be quite a lot of work - and I only ask for a few words of acknowledgment. Reviews help me stay on course, as well as pointing out any inconsistencies for correcting or addressing in future chapters. This story is close to completion (Chapter 25 will be the final chapter), and while I have ideas and plans for a sequel, I am considering whether it is worth the effort.

Please review and leave me your thoughts about this chapter, as well as if you would read the sequel.